River
by Karen Hikari
Summary: It didn't matter. After all, Will knew that Nico was head-over-heels with Percy. Not that Will could blame him. Nico He couldn't hold it against them. He couldn't hate Monique for being perfect for Will Solace, just like he could not be bitter towards Annabeth for being perfect for Percy. Or the one in which they are enamoured with each other but are both too dense to realize it.


**So... this is a long overdue little thing, but here goes nothing. For the last five years I have gifted my sister, Laura, a story for her birthday. I usually write it in Spanish, save for one year when I decided to write her a Jaylos fanfic called "A Vouch Sealed With Blood". However, on that particular year, when I asked how she had found the story her answer was "It's good... but it isn't Solangelo." Therefore, I decided to come back to Solangelo and write a song-fic. ****The song I used for this story is called "River" by Emeli Sandé, please feel free to check it out, it's a lovely song. **

**Also, to make this possible I had the help of two beautiful people, who were nice enough to agree to beta-read this even though I asked them to do so like two days before my sister's birthday and they had to work against the clock for me to have it on time. So, please give it up for my two wonderful beta-readers, FrostedDragonHeart and Rosycat. Please feel free to check their accounts out and send them love. **

**Now, without further ado... I really hope you enjoy it! 3**

* * *

**_River_**

* * *

―*―*―

_If you're looking for a big adventure,  
And gold is all that's on your mind…  
If all you want's someone to take your picture…  
Then I won't waste your time._

―*―*―

Of the number of skills that Will Solace could sincerely claim he had, the one that was perhaps the most useless was how accurately he could point out when someone was in love. That was to say, he was a demigod that had been unfortunately cursed with being a zero to the left when it came to sword-fighting or archery, yet he could identify clear as a bell the most subtle of glances a restrained lover sent in the direction of their object of desire. He had never dared to say it aloud, but he internally suspected that maybe —and it was indeed an inquisitive 'maybe'— he was better at reading the inaudible language of silent love than the children of Aphrodite.

He supposed that this was an ability he had acquired through his years as the Head Doctor of the Infirmary of Camp Half-Blood. After all, despite his —admitted— worthlessness at fighting, he was a devoted physician. At the battlefield, he was out of place, too clumsy to hold a sword properly, too easily startled to maintain his concentration and aim an arrow through the screams of pain of comrades and enemies alike, too sympathetic with his peers to carry through his planned attack, even if it were only during a Capture the Flag game.

He was not a natural-born fighter and, in all honesty, he would rather not be. He was a healer, and he was immensely proud of that title. Even as a child, he'd always been inclined to help and to alleviate the pain of others.

He was the diligent boy who kindly offered to tutor his classmates if he noticed they were falling behind. He was the kind-hearted soul who would stop to pet a stray dog on the street, leaving nearly in tears to see such gentle animals be deprived of love. He was the empathetic person who captured both spiders and bees when he found them inside his home or cabin so that he could run outside to free them. He was not a fighter, and he valued honesty far too much to allow such a statement to bother him.

It was true, however, that healers did not often receive the glory and the notoriety that their warrior counterparts did. Everyone, for example, had heard the songs about the valiant deeds of Achilles, the way his rage had been far more disastrous for Troy than any other weapon wielded by men, how his wrath penetrated more than just Troy's walls, but the hearts of the Trojans as well. Everyone remembered Heracles, with his broad shoulders and irrepressible muscles, capable of smothering massive lions with his bare hands.

The same could not be said of Asclepius or of Podalirius, who were more than just powerful demigods. These were healing gods, long forgotten in order to make room in the memory of humanity for the courageous demigod warriors.

On the other hand, Will Solace had never yearned for fame of for glory, especially not if such qualities would come at the cost of his peace of mind and sleepless nights after stabbing a fellow camper during training. He would rather work from anonymity, silently bandaging wounds and stopping hemorrhages. If nothing else, it was an honorable job, and he performed it with the most honest of dispositions.

It couldn't be any other way, for healing a person was a very intimate thing to do. Often times, the physical ailments of a person were but a symptom of an emotional one, and neither of them could be treated whilst neglecting the other. Furthermore, Will considered himself honored. Undoubtedly, a strong camaraderie was born from training together and fighting side-by-side, but there was a different, more intimate type of trust born between a physician and their patient.

He was, after all, the recipient of his patient's pain, of the raw, agonizing truth that they were —for all of their golden, divine ichor, for all of their supernatural powers—, humans at the end of the day. He was the one the skilled descendants of Achilles and Heracles allowed themselves to be the most vulnerable with, the one in front of who the steadfast warriors dissolved into bleeding, terrified children. And, behind the closed doors of the infirmary and the hurriedly pulled over curtains that divided the small cubicles that served as rooms for the hospitalized patients, he was also the one who could ease their pained cries and restore the tranquility to their eyes.

He was thankful for that, honored that his peers trusted him enough to let their guards down and be honest with him.

That was how he supposed he had learned to read the souls of his patients. How he had learned the dozens of meanings hunched over shoulders held, how he had learned to identify the rage barely concealed under indifference, how he had learned that a gritted 'It doesn't hurt' meant his patient was, in fact, in excruciating anguish but wanted his distress to be treated with extreme discretion. Will supposed that, afterwards, once he had become a fluent speaker of the subtle art of body language, he had also taken an impromptu curse of the silent dialect of love.

It was all in the longing glances, in the affectionate smiles that the smitten person attempted —rather unsuccessfully, might Will add— to pass as nonchalant grins. It was all in the way they leaned closer to their beloved one or perked up when they heard a special name being mentioned, even if it was in a passing. That's how Will Solace knew. He had been trained to identify the slightest signs a person was in pain; it was much more satisfactory to be able to tell when they were in love.

And that was how Will Solace, son of Apollo, Head Doctor of the Camp Half-Blood Infirmary knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that Nico di Angelo was in love with Percy Jackson.

It was barely there at first, concealed under the nonchalant demeanor of the son of Hades. It was in the uninterested way Nico attempted to sport when he asked what Percy had been up to during the time he hadn't been at the camp. Which, granted, was the majority of the time. It was in how Nico would noticeably bite the insides of his cheeks when Will answered.

The son of Apollo supposed that Nico perceived him as harmless. After all, his professional honor forbade him of sharing whatever his patients told him. In all fairness, Nico hadn't admitted to anything, and while that did not make his feelings any less real, it could mean that Will was seeing too much in the simplicity of a friend asking about a comrade that he hadn't seen in a long time.

On the other hand, if that were the case and Nico was in fact only inquiring about Percy as a friend, then why didn't he walk up to the son of Poseidon himself and asked him personally? Will had seen Nico whenever Percy tried to approach him at dinner or before a Capture the Flag game. Percy, being his bubbly, easy-going self as he attempted to start a conversation while Nico's frame immediately tensed, eyes averted as he came up with an excuse to leave as soon as possible.

When he listed all the little things that had guided Will to his conclusion, like right now, it seemed rather obvious. However, with how seldom Nico even appeared at the Camp and with how he only ever spoke in monosyllables, Will considered it was, in fact, a big achievement.

He supposed it didn't matter. He was but the physician that looked after Nico whenever he stayed at the Camp. That wasn't anything special—he was the Head Doctor of the Infirmary, tending to wounded demigods was, quite literally, his _job_. Perhaps the only thing worth noting was that he was especially worried about Nico when compared to his other patients because Nico would often disappear from the Camp for literal months. Even on his rare visits, it took Will a great deal of coaxing to get Nico to agree to a quick check-up.

The only other thing that marked these situations as special in any way was the fact that Will was always the one in charge of said check-ups. Nico most likely hadn't given it a second thought, and he probably assumed that all the other members of the Apollo cabin were too disgusted by him to want to have him as their patient and that Will, being the captain of his cabin and the Head of the Infirmary, despite not wanting to be stuck with him either, had found himself unable to wash his hands of the unwanted son of Hades, unlike the rest of his siblings.

With a begrudging pang in his chest, Will could see why Nico would think something like that. It wasn't that the camp actively rejected Nico because of his parentage. Personally, Will was inclined to think that the real, underlying reason for Nico's repulse towards his divine parent was his own feelings regarding Hades and his godly heritage.

In truth, Nico was the first one who tried to negate and ignore who his father was, and so long as Nico himself did not accept who he was, it would be hard for the people around him to do so. It would be harder still for Nico to realize that the other demigods were not rejecting him and that, instead, he was the one projecting the aversion he felt towards his own heritage and embodying it in his peers.

So no, the reason Will was always the one checking in on Nico did not mean that all of the other demigods of Apollo's cabin disliked him and Will was unfortunate enough to be stuck with him. Far from that, even if such a thing had been the case —which, again, it wasn't—, Will knew for a fact that his brothers and sisters were true professionals, who would not, under any circumstances, allow their personal opinion of a patient to come in between their performance as physicians and a person who was in need of help.

However, at the core, the reason Will was always the one at the infirmary when Nico appeared at the camp was because Will had personally requested to be responsible for Nico's health records. That was it. No secret animosity or aversion, no convoluted schemes akin to Young Adult plots. Just Will allowing himself to be incredibly unprofessional and trying to use his position as Head of the Infirmary to give him the chance to get to know Nico better.

It didn't matter. Not really. After all, Will knew that Nico was head-over-heels in love with the great, Greek hero impersonation, Percy Jackson. Not that Will could blame him. Especially not since, to Nico, he was nothing other than an annoying nurse who would not stop bickering and chastising him because he did not eat enough.

―*―*―

_See, maybe I'm too quiet for you,  
You've probably never noticed me,  
But if you're too big to follow rivers,  
How you ever gonna find the sea?_

―*―*―

At some point after the defeat of the Giants, Will Solace had started dating a freckled red-haired girl from Hephaestus' cabin. Now, that was an extremely ridiculous and uncalled for statement for Nico di Angelo to make. After all, what was it to him if Will Solace dated a pretty daughter of Hephaestus or not? In fact, if things had gone his way, he wouldn't even have been at the camp enough for him to connect the dots and realize that Monique —sweet, curly-haired Monique— spent so much time in the infirmary that she might have as well been a daughter of Apollo herself.

Again, he should have probably ignored it all together. It was none of his business, after all. Monique was a bubbly, talkative girl, and she always had a cheerful smile curled at the corners of her lips. She was, by definition, the kind of girl someone like Will Solace —kind-hearted, soft-spoken, polite Will Solace— would fall for. It made sense, to the last one of Monique's freckles.

What did not make sense, not at all, was how uneasy this whole affair made Nico feel. Will Solace and him were not even friends, they barely knew each other enough to be called acquaintances. If Will hadn't been the Head of the Infirmary, Nico doubted that the son of Apollo would have even known what his name was. And, again, if Will Solace hadn't been the Head of the Infirmary, Nico doubted that he would have spoken to the son of Apollo enough to even consider him an acquaintance at all.

Thinking about it was simply ridiculous. If Will weren't such a massive pain in the ass and had forced Nico to stay bedridden at the infirmary, then he wouldn't even know that Will Solace was dating Monique in the first place. It was none of his business. None at all.

The fact that he had noticed Monique's singsong voice and radiant smile boiled down to how often the daughter of Hephaestus was at the infirmary. And that didn't make her special, either. The infirmary was packed with demigods that were not descendants of Apollo but who urged to help and to aide in this difficult time. There were still dozens of wounded demigods, both Greek and Roman, laying in the beds, stretchers and inflatable mattresses at the infirmary.

When even that had been insufficient, the children of Apollo had evacuated their own cabin and started to spend the nights at spare beds in their friends' cabins. They had even used Hera's and Artemis' cabins. After all, these were goddesses consecrated to family and protection. Surely, they would not become furious at the prospect of their empty cabins serving as shelter for the exhausted healers of the camp.

It didn't make much of a difference, either. Said healers had so many things to do, so much work slowly piling around them, that they barely slept at all. The older ones had to keep watch, both at the infirmary and at their own cabin, now that injured demigods were staying there too. Often times, they fell asleep on their chairs, if they did not do so standing. They also needed to be available for emergencies, and despite the well-meaning volunteers ready to cut bandages and make the inventory, there was only so much the children of Apollo could allow untrained volunteers to do when it came to taking care of their patients.

Monique was one of those volunteers, although it was obvious from her comfortable demeanor and calm stance that, despite not being a daughter of Apollo, she knew her way around the infirmary. She would come during the day and help as much as she could, changing bandages and handing out trays of food. And she tried, she tried so hard and so genuinely to make the injured demigods smile or at least forget for a moment the suffering that engulfed both camps with her funny stories and cheeky jokes.

When night rolled around, Nico saw Will Solace walk her to the porch of the infirmary, where she would insist that he needed to rest and that she could stay the night in his place. Without fail, Will Solace declined the offer, too responsible and too selfless to care or even acknowledge his strained smile and exhausted gaze. And Monique, sweet, loving Monique, knew him far too well to argue. She knew it would be useless. Instead, she smiled tiredly at her boyfriend and kissed his lips for just a moment before she pulled back and whispered a soft 'Try to get some rest, babe'. And, managing to look ashamed for making a promise that he knew he wouldn't even try to keep, Will answered with a murmured 'Sure, darlin''.

Personally, Nico thought it was stupid. Not Will Solace and Monique, with their tender gazes and soft-spoked promises. No, that was sweet, even he could see that. That was genuine, and it showed that they shared a level of trust that he could only ever dream he'd share with someone one day. No, Monique and Will Solace, despite the uneasy feeling that seeing them together gave Nico, were nothing if not sweetly and happily in love. They were perfect for each other, all aureus smiles and warm welcomes. He was happy for Will Solace, his not-quite-friend-just-barely-an-acquaintance, he was.

No, what was stupid was overworking their medical staff, pushing them to a point where even Will Solace's laugh was barely above a whisper. Forcing them to go without proper food or much-needed sleep for weeks. What was outrageous was putting the responsibility of the life and death of their comrades in the hands of literal children, the very children that had just watched their friends and siblings perish only days prior.

Nico knew that was simply the way their world worked. He had risked his own life to end the war, too. He had spent months searching for Percy, barely sleeping when exhaustion took over and eating just enough to keep himself going. He had no moral quality to question the sacrifices the other campers were making to get through the outcome of the war. He knew.

He wasn't questioning the Apollo cabin, or even Will's generosity, but he was willing to question the world they lived in. Heavens above, he was going to question the taunting gods that forced people like Will Solace and Monique to undergo weeks of sleepless, fretful nights and lives of gut-wrenching anxiety, waiting to hear the news, praying to those very gods that their loved ones returned home safely. He was going to question the divine laws that made them live like this —barely living at all, and instead simply _surviving_— until the day he died.

He was not special, Nico knew. He'd only held a sword fast in his hands and he'd teleported a big-ass statue across the world. That was all. He was no hero. He was but a pawn in the gods' immortal hands. The real heroes worked behind the scenes, bandaging wounds and summoning tired smiles from dried lips. The real heroes were selfless, kind, brave people like Will Solace and Monique.

And these heroes, these warriors that were worth so much more outside of the battlefield deserved happiness. They deserved each other. They deserved their cheesy songs at the campfire and their gentle touches at the infirmary porch. They deserved _each other_.

He would be gone in a few days, Nico decided. In fact, if it weren't because Will Solace had forbidden him to leave the infirmary, he wouldn't even be there at the time, using a bed that so many others needed —and deserved— more than he did. He was glad that Will Solace had found someone as bright as him, someone as kind and as generous. He was genuinely glad that his not-quite-friend had someone like Monique to lean into.

_They deserved each other_, Nico repeated to himself, despite the way that thought punched the air out of Nico's lungs. He couldn't hold it against them. He couldn't hate Monique for being perfect for Will Solace, just like he could not be bitter towards Annabeth for being perfect for Percy.

_They deserved each other. They deserved to be happy_, Nico told himself over and over again, until the words stopped being units and instead became an unrecognizable mush. They deserved each other and he would be gone as soon as Will Solace discharged him. If he had any luck, this time no war would arise and he would not come back to the camp in a very, very long time.

―*―*―

_So follow me, I'll be your river, river,  
I'll do the running for you.  
Follow me, I'll be your river, river,  
I'll move the mountains for you.  
Follow me, I'll be your river, river,  
I'm here to keep you floating.  
Follow me, I'll be your river, river…  
River, river…_

―*―*―

Of course, the gods had yet to leave a contact number for Nico to ask how he wanted his life to go. He had not left the camp to not come back in a very, very long time. In fact, he hadn't even left the camp in the first place until several months after the war, and it wasn't even Will Solace's fault. Oh no—it had been Jason's, and Piper's, and Annabeth's, and Percy's. War was over at last, they said, and he finally had a chance to feel at home at the camp.

It was… strange, if he did say so himself. It wasn't that he felt out of place at camp, not in the way that he had before, at least. It was… different. For instance, he didn't feel as if he had to constantly bite his tongue in order to not say something that would incriminate him in some way, he didn't feel the need to keep everyone at arm's length because otherwise they would find out who he really was and they would hate him for it.

To say that it was freeing was and understatement. Ever since Cupid had forced Nico make that loathed confession in front of Jason, things regarding his sexuality had become a little easier to accept. It might have been slightly masochistic on his part, but he was thankful to Cupid, even if just a silent, tiny, little bit.

It wasn't that before Cupid he'd clung on to the hope that one day he would wake up and be _normal_ and not be gay. No, he knew there was no changing what he was at the core. He couldn't stop being gay the same way he couldn't stop being a demigod. If he hadn't become straight in the sixty years he'd spent in the Lotus Hotel, he wouldn't become one in the months since Percy and Annabeth had started dating.

What had changed, however, was the way people perceived his homosexuality as a whole. Sometimes, when nightmares plagued his sleep and when closing his eyes in the solitude of his cabin was more torture than relief, Nico remembered the way he'd heard people talk about homosexuality back when he was a child, back in Venice, when his mother and his own ignorance had still been there to shield him from the cruel comments. Granted, he had been too young to fully comprehend what the spiteful glances towards a not-masculine-enough young man meant, too young to understand what the shushed whispers about this or what _fag_ meant. But he knew it was bad, and that was enough.

He hadn't made sense of any of that until much later, when Bianca wasn't there to hold his hand anymore, when he could feel the callous breath of Death tickling down his spine. And he'd been ashamed. He'd been terrified. He'd tortured himself, day and night and day again incessantly. He'd martyrized himself with Bianca's death, with his parentage, with guilt, with the knowledge —or the perceived knowledge, at least— that there was no one left in the world who cared about him. His sexuality had only been a bullet-point in a very, very long list of his disappointments and regrets.

Truthfully, the reason being gay had made him so unbearably anxious wasn't his sexuality _per se_—rather, it was the reaction he received to that statement from the people around him. What made him so utterly terrified of admitting, even to himself in the silence of his empty cabin, that he was not what society expected him to be was the possibility that he would be treated with the same scorn with which he'd heard the adults speak of men who only _seemed_ gay and _twisted_ and _perverted_.

What he feared was not the biting end of the truth, no. What he was, to this very day, absolutely petrified of was the dead threats he'd receive from simply being who he was, the hateful glares, the disgust in the eyes of people who claimed bullshit along the lines of _I am not a homophobe, but…_

Yes, Jason could insist that things had changed all he wanted. He could point the fact that homosexuality was not considered a crime anymore—at least in the United States and in Italy, Nico had quietly pointed out. Jason could scream at the top of his lungs that same-sex marriage had been legalized, that homoparental adoption was allowed. Yes, Nico knew that they were Greek and Roman, and that homosexuality had been perceived differently by the ancient cultures that served as the foundations of the demigod world. Yes, Jason could apologize —genuinely, from the bottom of his heart— of the unfairness of the fact that they had to celebrate these simple statements as won battles when these were things that straight people took for granted.

Yes, Nico knew Jason meant well, and he was thankful for having the son of Jupiter on his corner. However, Jason's unwavering support and positive outlook on life were not enough to cancel out the fact that there were still people who had the closed-up, downright hostile mentalities that Nico remembered from when he as a child. And it wasn't that the hateful words and cruel sneers had stopped burning, but at some point, Nico had decided that it was simply not worth it.

After all, he had been granted a second shot at life, he had survived World War II, he had fought and won alongside his fellow demigods during both the Titan and the Giant War. He was thankful he was even _alive_ to start with, what did it matter what an ignorant, stuck-up bigot thought of who he had a relationship with? Not that he was even in a relationship at the moment, but still.

So he'd stopped hiding. At least that was how Jason had decided to word it. Personally, Nico wanted to say that he had never been hiding at all, but the lie tasted bitter on his lips. The truth was that he had decided to stop fear to rule his every move. He'd decided he wanted to live a full life, not just the scraps of breathing and having a pulse and only _being_ alive. No, he wanted to _live_, to really _live_, down to the last intake of breath from his alveolus.

To an extent, he supposed Jason was right. Not that he would give the son of Jupiter the satisfaction of hearing that confession from his lips. Hell no. However, at one-forty-seven in the morning, alone in his cabin, who was there to hear his thoughts and tell Jason? No one, that was who, and therefore, Nico allowed himself to be honest.

That was why he'd decided to stay at the camp, after all. The camp, that was so full of life and so hectic and so rambunctious and so _everything_. The camp, that had ever-so slowly started to resemble a home, a safe haven for him to land.

It was slow at first, how he began to feel more at ease around the campers, how they welcomed him, not only as a fellow demigod, but as a hero. Nico knew that he was no such thing; however, who was he to take the much-needed sense of security that came from knowing you had someone watching over you from the other demigods? The gods knew —though they could never admit it— that the campers had suffered enough already. If the idea —deceiving, exaggerated, hardly true at all— that Nico was a hero, dutifully staying at the camp to protect them, gave the weary demigods any sense of comfort, Nico would not be the one to snatch it away from their hands.

It might have also helped that he smiled more. He laughed more. Hell, he was _there_ more, out of his cabin, sitting at Percy's table with Annabeth and Jason during dinner. He was out in the volleyball courts, helping the children of Aphrodite defeat Hypnos' cabin during an amicable match.

He was _there_, teaching Italian and Latin, serving as a bridge that connected Camp Half-Blood with Camp Jupiter. He was _there_, training the younger demigods at sword-fighting and making it a point to tell them that no matter how out of place they felt, no matter how weird and utterly terrifying it was to find out that one of your parents was a god, it would eventually start making sense. Eventually, it would start feeling _right_ again.

So, Nico di Angelo never got around to leave the camp for a very, very long time. Instead, Nico di Angelo _stayed_ —wholeheartedly, contently, _willingly_— at the camp. And for the first time in literal years, Nico di Angelo felt _alive_—utterly, breathtakingly, impossibly _alive_.

―*―*―

_If all you want are answers to your questions,  
and you can't seem to find no love for free…  
If you're looking for the right direction…  
Then, darling, look for me._

―*―*―

Against anything and everything that Will Solace would have anticipated, Nico di Angelo did not flee from the camp, not even after Will had officially discharged him. That was a first. In fact, there were a lot of 'firsts' going on after the war against the Giants. Will suspected it had something —_everything_— to do with Nico's newfound life purpose.

Will had always known that Nico was, at heart, a good person. Perhaps he had a dark sense of humor, perhaps he was sarcastic and blunt, but that did not —_could not_— negate the courage he had shown as he fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the very same people who he thought hated him. If Nico had been spiteful or vindictive, if he had been cruel and heartless, if he had been the monster Nico claimed the other demigods accused him of being due to his parentage, he would have spared himself the trouble and not lifted a finger to help them during the war. Will wasn't even talking about the Giant War anymore, but about the Titan one.

Will had seen Nico enter the battlefield then. He had doubted Nico had noticed him, or that he even cared enough to remember his name. After all, Will was just another blond, blue-eyed demigod, not unlike a couple dozen of Apollo or Hermes' children. On the other hand, there was only one demigod who had the ability to make the earth under their feet crack and disintegrate, only one demigod who could open the very soil they were standing on and summon the bony specters of the underground to crawl out of the depths of the Underworld, and Will remembered him fairy well.

Sometimes, Will still had nightmares of the Battle of Manhattan. Sometimes he could still hear the roaring clash of swords, the swift whistle of arrows as they flew across the sky—close, so close, that he feared he might get hit by one despite not having been the original target. Sometimes, he wished they would hit him, if only it would make the noise and the hurt and the guilt _stop_.

Sometimes he woke up still caught up in dreams that were not dreams as much as they were memories, praying to unhearing gods that they blessed him with some kind of fighting skill. Even if just for this one battle, even if just to fight alongside his brothers and sisters this one time instead of being so unbelievingly clumsy with a sword and so completely useless at the battlefield.

The one thing he knew how to do was healing, but he could not heal the injured campers fast enough. He could not stop the hemorrhages at the rate at which Kronos' army stabbed the young demigods. He could not keep the promise he inevitably made to each of his patients, that _It's alright, it's alright, you're gonna be okay_, that left his lips in a soothing hurry but that dissolved into nothing as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

On those nights, he clung to Nico, even if the son of Hades was certainly unaware of it. He clung to the memory of Nico, emerging from the depths of the earth, of his unwavering determination as he marched towards Kronos' army. He clung to the certainty with which Nico had faced battle, to the lifeline his zombie warriors had offered to the weary demigods. Kronos' monsters could try all they wanted to defeat the zombies, but they could not kill what was already dead.

There was no telling how many lives Nico had saved that day just by _being_ there. Will was certain that Nico had saved his. Michael had disappeared a few hours prior, and although Will still held on to the withering hope that his brother was alive, chances were that he would, at the very least, be injured when they found him. The Apollo Cabin needed a leader then, _then_. They had no time to waste waiting for Michael to return. Will was next in line, and although he'd always known he would eventually become the leader of his cabin, he'd always thought that they'd have more time to prepare themselves. After all, Michael was only seventeen, it would still be a while before he had to leave for college.

Will had not expected to become the Head of the Apollo Cabin like this. Not with a war thundering around him, not with Michael missing, possibly dead, not with his hands covered in blood that he could not even tell anymore whether if it was his patients' or his own. Never, never had he thought, even for the fraction of a second, that he would become Head of the Apollo Cabin without the chance to say goodbye to his brother, without the possibility of calling him if he had a question. No one had prepared him for the dozens of lost, terrified eyes of his siblings that looked up at him with a glimpse of hope under their desperate expectancy, as if Will weren't just as lost and terrified himself.

That was when Nico had appeared in the battlefield. And he'd brought a wave of new-found faith to Will. He couldn't give up, he couldn't let his sorrow gnaw at this chest, not yet. The other demigods were still fighting, Nico di Angelo still thought they were worth saving, his brothers and sisters _trusted him_. Will simply couldn't curl into himself and let his own sobs drown the thundering crash of war around him, no matter how much he wanted to. The battle was not yet over, they hadn't lost yet.

Unbeknownst to Nico, he was the strongest, definite reason that made Will pull himself together, even if it was only for the sake of his siblings. Nico had lost his older sister fairly recently as well, Nico was only twelve-year-old, he was even younger than Will himself. Yet he was still fighting —desperately, wholeheartedly, fiercely— for a camp that he didn't even consider his home. As long as Nico was on his feet, fighting, Will would not give up, he _refused_ to give up.

The thing with Nico was that he was stubborn. He never took a 'no' for an answer and he had decidedly been born to prove the people around him wrong when they said that he _couldn't_ or that he _shouldn't_ do something. And that meant that Will had to be stubborn too and ignore the exhaustion and the pain washing over him in order to keep going. So that's what Will Solace did through the Battle of Manhattan, and through many days and years after that—he _kept going_.

He took a deep breath and did his best to be the leader his brothers and sisters deserved, and he carried on. He clung to the memory of Nico di Angelo, to the determination glimmering in his eyes, and he drew inspiration from it. He _kept going_.

In all honesty, Will had always known Nico di Angelo was a good person, but it was still a wonderful surprise to see more people recognizing it. It was absolutely wonderful to see Nico accepting and growing more comfortable with the notion that he was a hero. It was utterly relieving to see Nico stay at the camp instead of fleeing right after Will's discharge, so breathtakingly relieving to see him happy and at ease during the campfire songs.

Everything that came afterwards —Nico signing up as a Latin and Italian teacher, him realizing that he was exceptionally good at training the young demigods at sword-fighting, him volunteering at the infirmary, him offering to help out in the rescue missions to bring new demigods to the camp— was simply a welcomed surprise. Will had heard a few demigods comment, in a passing, and without the faintest trace of ill-intentions, that they had never thought Nico would enjoy being a teacher or helping out with the younger campers.

In all honesty, Will could understand where they were coming from, and he had to admit that he hadn't exactly imagined Nico reassuring a young demigod who found a certain fighting technique hard to learn. Not until he'd seen the gentle way in which Nico squatted down and spoke to Will's younger siblings while training them. However, it seemed _fitting_. It was so _perfect_ and so _right_ that Will had to stop and ask himself how come he had never thought of it. Nico took to teaching and coaching the same way he took to fighting—it was instinctive, natural. It was in his very essence.

So no, Will was not at all surprised to see Nico fall into the missing pieces of the camp. He wasn't surprised to see Nico growing more comfortable at the volleyball courts and the dining pavilion. He wasn't puzzled to find Nico cutting bandages or folding the clean sheets of the infirmary's beds. No, this felt _right_. This felt like what Nico had been meant to be doing all along.

If anything, Will was proud that he got to see Nico unabashedly being himself. If anything, he was thankful that the gods allowed him to be there to see it happening.

―*―*―

_See, I can make the load much lighter,  
I just need you to confide in me,  
But if you're too proud to follow rivers,  
How you ever gonna find the sea?_

―*―*―

It was during one of the rescue missions Nico so eagerly volunteered to that it happened. It was a couple of months after the one year mark of Gaea's defeat, and though the festivities were officially over, the lingering feeling in the air was still surreal. It felt like an eternity had passed, yet Nico —and he was sure the same could be said for the rest of the demigods that had fought in the war— could remember the battle as if it were only a few days that separated him from the actual event and not a _complete year_. It was surreal and unbelievable and it had him feeling all sorts of mixed emotions, but, above it all, he was _relieved_.

Life had been good during that year. Life _was_ good. He had his friends and the young demigods he trained, who genuinely looked up to him. He had his sisters, Hazel and Reyna, who he had adopted as such. Or she had adopted him as a younger brother, it was not very clear, but it wasn't as if it mattered, either. He had a job that he was passionate about, he had the camps and Hades and Persephone, who lovingly awaited for him and Hazel in the Underworld for when they managed to run away from their responsibilities and visit their parents.

Definitely, life was good. Better than he could have imagined it would ever be.

It was with that in mind that Nico volunteered to an impromptu rescue mission. Elijah, a satyr that was currently in Pennsylvania had called, saying he'd found a girl who he was certain was a demigod and that he requested help to bring her to the camp. This was a common occurrence, nothing out of the ordinary. It was autumn and the camp was emptier than usual, but that was normal too.

Usually, the contingency plan for these situations included the satyr contacting with either Chiron or one of the praetors of New Rome, whichever camp director was closer to where the newfound demigod was at the moment, to inform them of their findings. Afterwards, Chiron or the praetor would call for a meeting with the heads of the cabins or the centurions of the cohorts, whatever the case may be, and share the need for a rescue mission, explaining the particularities of each situation.

Then they ran a quick check to determine if there was already a demigod party in a mission near the area were the help was needed, available to aid the satyr and the new demigod. If that was the case, they discussed the possibilities of morphing both missions into one; if that wasn't possible or if there weren't any demigods already in the general direction, they opened the case for a completely new mission and called someone else in.

There was a pre-established list of demigods who genuinely enjoyed this kind of rescue missions and would happily leave the camp for a few days for the sake of bringing a new demigod home. This was because, although assisting in a rescue was part of the moral code and most demigods had participated in at least one of those missions, not everyone would willingly chose to do so.

Nico could understand why, to an extent. Not everyone wanted to deal with the pain and confusion of a child who was seeing their world shatter to tiny pieces in front of their eyes. Not everyone wanted to try to explain to a new member of their dysfunctional family how this whole demigod business worked, especially not when most of the older and supposedly more experienced demigods were still trying to make sense of it all.

Nico understood that, and he honestly could not blame the ones who openly admitted that rescue missions were not their thing. It was better to stay out of it rather than have someone be forced to participate in them and then screw a child's first impression of the demigod world. Nico could understand why someone would prefer to stay out of these situations; however, that was not what he did.

Rescue missions always hit too close home for him. They always made him remember Bianca and the attack of the manticore and the sinking feeling of _utter_ _loss_. Perhaps it was the fact that he was masochistic in nature, perhaps it was his way of giving back to the camp, but he had long ago decided that he could handle rescue missions. Yes, they were painful, but they were also a way of _dealing_ with that pain. It gave that heartache a purpose, it made the grief make sense, be worth something.

Nico could vividly remember what being lost and confused and seeing your world shatter right in front of your eyes felt like. And he didn't want that for the new demigods. He didn't want that for anyone. His pain was enough, therefore, if through it he could spare the new campers of the unbearable confusion and agony, he would. Time and time again.

That was how Nico had ended up in the emergency contact list for when a satyr called asking for back-up. It helped that shadowtraveling came incredibly in handy when the satyr and the new demigod were in a different state and needed quick assistance. It also helped that Nico was good with children. Not that he personally thought that, but the Heads of the Cabins had decided that he was, and so he had proudly taken the title and worked with it accordingly. Furthermore, Nico was a year-round camper and thus he was almost always available when the request for a surprise mission came in. That was an especially important detail to take into account then, when the camp was nearly empty due to the season.

This time, Chiron had contacted Nico immediately and he had soon accepted the mission. Now, although the lucky number of missions was three, there were not enough campers available for a mission at the moment. Chiron assured that it didn't matter because, once they caught up with Elijah in Pennsylvania, they would have a three-person party. Nico didn't particularly care. All that symbolism seemed stilted to him.

Besides, the fewer people he shadowtraveled, the better. It wasn't that he couldn't shadowtravel a group of three fighters, a satyr and a new, confused demigod a couple of states over, he could. In fact, he had done it, more than once. However, he was not beyond admitting that the more people he teleported, the bigger the toll it took on him. Also, considering that Will, his medical practitioner, still arched an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction whenever Nico wielded the shadows, he wasn't looking forward to it either.

On the other hand, they did not have many options, so Chiron immediately appointed Nico. And, again, due to their personnel shortage, he assigned Will as the second demigod for the mission. It was ironic, and so Nico told Will as they prepared to leave the camp, that they were put together in a mission that included shadowtraveling in the job description. Unfortunately, Will did not find it as comical or amusing as Nico did, which only made Nico laugh harder.

Either way, there was no time to waste, and the two demigods quickly collected their pre-packed emergency mission backpacks. It was a fairly easy premise—travel to Pennsylvania, meet up with Elijah and the girl, Leticia, in a rapid but comforting manner, explain to her what was going on, and then go straight back to camp. Easy peasy.

Of course, that was not what happened, because as soon as Nico and Will arrived at Pennsylvania, they both felt a dreary realization settle in their stomachs. Firstly, they couldn't contact Elijah, not via the monster-safe phones Leo had designed after miraculously coming back from the dead, not via Iris message, not even via asking the teachers of the high school Elijah had been assigned to keep an eye on. Nico was about to consider panicking as a viable course of action when he suddenly felt a strong concentration of Underworld-y powers pull at him.

"Fuck," he managed, mind racing as he started making sense of everything. "It's a hellhound."

He did not have to add anything else before Will also put two and two together and they exited the high school in a blur of demigod anxiety. Nico took the lead because, much like monsters could smell demigods, Nico could feel the presence of hellhounds. Well, not exactly. He could feel the way hellhounds manipulated the shadows, he could feel the way a mass of shadows stopped following his orders and slowly retreated to serve the will of a hellhound.

He had discovered he could do that a few months after Gaea's defeat, while he was playing fetch with Mrs. O'Leary, who accidentally shadowtraveled herself from the volleyball courts to the forest in an excited attempt to catch the ball faster. Nico suspected that hellhounds could also feel him wield the shadows, because ever since then Nico had started shadowtraveling the ball into another place of the camp and Mrs. O'Leary was always ecstatic to shadowtravel herself away to find it. However, this was not friendly, lovable Mrs. O'Leary, and that was clear as hell when Nico turned a street corner and found a dog the size of a school-bus growling furiously at a trembling satyr.

It took Nico exactly a second to take in the scene—the way Elijah was trying not to apply weight on his left leg, the way his hands shook as he held a small dagger —absolutely useless against a hellhound—, the way he was still screaming at the top of his lungs that everything would be okay and that he would get them out of there safely to the cowering girl behind him. It took Nico only a quarter of a second more to come up with a plan to get Elijah and the girl to camp.

Of course, it took Will only half a second to come up with his own plan, which absolutely screwed over Nico's. Before Nico could so much as inhale to tell Will how they would handle the situation, Will was racing _straight_ forwards to the hellhound, screaming bloody murder and wielding no weapon. _Freaking idiot_.

"For fuck's sake," was all Nico managed to think before he, too, was following the dumbest battle strategy he had ever witnessed and began running towards the adversary. Fortunately for him, he had his Stygian Iron sword unsheathed before he stupidly entered battle.

The one thing Will's plan succeeded in was distracting the hellhound's attention from Elijah and Leticia. Which was hardly a success, because the beast then proceeded to focus his attention on the newly appeared demigods, who were making its job so much easier by idiotically approaching him. The monster growled, feral and guttural, flexing its legs in preparation to leap forward.

Will was a moron, and though they had already established that, the thought came back to Nico's head, useless, but true nonetheless. Hell, if they survived, Nico would personally embroider a gigantic banner, complete with sequins and glitter —he knew Will _loathed_ them— and hang it at the infirmary's door—_Beware, Will Solace is a moron_.

The problem was that Will had not spent enough time around dogs to accurately read their body language. Specifically, he hadn't spent enough time around hellhounds to calculate the strength of their legs. Nico had, and he knew for a fact that a dog the size of their current enemy would only need one leap and a growl to catch up with Will. And then it would be game over.

In an unthinking panic, Nico did the one thing he could come up with—he teleported himself right in front of Will just as the hound jumped into the air. He appeared so suddenly in front of the son of Apollo that he almost tripped on him and, despite everything, Nico still had the audacity to feel smug about it. At least he did for the fraction of a second, before an intense pain shot from his left shoulder, where the hound had managed to bite him.

Truthfully, Nico had already been expecting the attack, and as soon as he felt the monster's fangs digging to his skin, he wielded the shadows to gather around the hellhound and teleported it all the way straight to China. As soon as he saw the beast disappear in a dark blur, he let go of the grasp he had around the handle of his sword. The weapon fell to the ground with a metallic creak.

Had this been any other monster, shadowtraveling it out of the battlefield wouldn't have worked, as Nico would have to teleport himself away along with the beast. However, hellhounds could shadowtravel on their own accord. Therefore, all Nico had had to do was mess up a bit with the shadows under the hellhound's command and instruct them to send the monster back to Tartarus.

It was also because of the beast's ability to shadowtravel that Nico was not dead—had he tried to teleport anything as big as that hound with nothing more than his own powers, Nico was positive that, at the very least, he would have passed out. As things were, he was only dizzy and he could feel a headache throbbing in the back of his head.

Will leaned down to pick Nico's sword and gently put it back in the sheath at the son of Hades' waist. Only then did Nico realize that Will was talking to him. With a groan, he made an effort to focus.

"… and you just appeared out of nowhere! What do you think you're doing, young man!" Will fussed, his words not a question as much as they were a reprimand.

"First of all, I am way older than you. Second of all, I was saving your fucking life!" Nico muttered through gritted teeth as he tried to raise his arms to massage his temples. It was when he tried to move his left arm that he remembered the hellhound's bite. Bloody perfect.

Truthfully, the wound in his shoulder wasn't all that terrible. He should be thankful he still had an arm to start with. It was, of course, no coincidence, because a hellhound could have swallowed him whole, but he had had the sense to make the shadows engulf both Will and him, making it hard for the beast to know where to aim his attack.

"By getting yourself killed?" Will inquired, although he was already kneeling on the floor, his first-aid kit out of his backpack as he sent nervous glances to Nico's bleeding injury.

"Well, did you have a better idea? Running towards a hellhound with no weapon?" Nico shot back, although he numbly let Will start tapping at his shoulder with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. Nico hissed in pain but did not pull away. Certainly, he did not trust the son of Apollo to work out a strategy or to follow a plan, but outside of the battlefield, he trusted him with his life. The son of Apollo had the decency to look ashamed.

"I panicked!" he muttered. "But even then, this was too dangerous!"

"Perks of the job!" Nico hissed, feeling the alcohol biting into the abused skin. "All we do is dangerous."

It was in that moment that Elijah caught up with them, firmly holding Leticia's hand in his.

"You made it just in time!" he breathed heavily, still not completely believing his luck. "Guys, this is Leticia. Letty, these are Nico and Will, they will get us to the camp I was telling you about."

Usually, at this point of the mission, Will would suggest that they took a bus back to New York rather than shadowtraveling back, arguing that Nico had already used his powers too much. Personally, the son of Hades suspected it had more to do with how much Will loathed shadowtraveling than with Will's medical concern. Using the shadows as a teletransportation method was probably harder on Will due to him being a son of the sun god.

However, on this particular occasion, Nico had to hand it to Will—he was exhausted and nearly out of Underworld powers. On the other hand, though, sitting in a bus station with a bleeding shoulder, a wounded satyr, a mouthy physician and a girl that looked about to start crying was even less appealing.

"A pleasure to meet you," Nico offered, gently offering his right hand to Leticia.

"Don't you dare!" Will threatened in a hiss when he saw realization and mischievousness climb into Nico's features. "Nico, I am warning you not to do this!" It was terribly unfortunate for him that Nico was terrible at following instructions—soon, he was gripping Will with his left hand, his right one still around Leticia's.

"Too late, sunshine," he announced tiredly. And then, it all went black. Literally. Both because of the shadows he had summoned and because the shot of pain that coursed from his left shoulder and through the rest of his body made him see dark spots that immediately consumed his vision.

―*―*―

The first thing Nico noticed when he came back to his senses was the numbing sensation that engulfed him. He groaned and tried to raise his hand to massage his temples. When a new pang of pain seared through his left side, Nico's eyes blinked open.

"Oh fuck," he muttered, taking in the bright infirmary light as his blurry mind tried to remember what had happened.

"Yeah, something like that," said a stern voice next to him. Slowly, Nico turned to his right side to find none other than Will Solace sitting in a white plastic chair next to the bed Nico was laying in. "What have I told you about burning yourself out like that?"

"What have I told you about not following a battle strategy?" Nico shot back, although there was no malice in his voice.

Slowly, the son of Hades felt his muscles relax at the knowledge that they had made it back to camp relatively safely, he squirmed in the mattress, trying to get himself into a comfortable sitting position. That was when he noticed the tight bandages on his left arm and the sling that immobilized his injured limb. He let out an annoyed huff and Will rose to his feet, gently pulling the pillow Nico had been laying in upright so that it was leaning on the bed's headboard and Nico could use it as support. Will also decided to take a seat on the mattress too in order to reprimand Nico from a closer distance.

"How long was I out?" the son of Hades asked.

"Little over twelve hours?" Will shrugged, pointing to the clock Kayla had insisted on hanging right next to the medicine cabinets. It proudly announced it was twelve-past-two in the morning. "I had to coax Leticia out of the infirmary a few hours ago because she wanted to be here when you woke up."

"Did she now?" Nico inquired, unable to fully hide the grin that started creeping to his face. It didn't matter, Will knew him well enough to see it regardless.

"She did," Will confirmed. "In fact, if I didn't know you better I would have thought that the whole letting-a-hellhound-bite-me business was just you playing hero to win over Leticia's admiration."

"Oh yeah? And how do you know that's not the case?" the son of Hades teased.

"Just a hunch," Will smiled gently before his expression clouded over. "Nico, you could have died today."

"Isn't that how every day in a demigod life goes like?" Nico sighed, attempting to shrug before a new flash of pain made him stay put. "Besides, it's not like you leave me with a lot of options here, sunshine."

"I was just—"

"Trying to help, I know," Nico cut him off. "But that thing could have swallowed you whole and you decided to run straight to it without so much as a dagger to defend yourself with!"

"I mean, yes, but…"

"Oh no, don't you dare! I'll do the scolding this time," he continued. "You got me all patched up and everything, thank you, but still no. You shouldn't be running into the battlefield with no weapons, Will!"

"I… I know," the son of Apollo sighed heavily, turning to look at his hands. Suddenly, the infirmary seemed considerably less bright and much less warm. "I shouldn't even be in the battlefield to start with, I know I'm useless with a—"

"Will Solace, if you know what is good for you, you will stop that bullshit right this second," Nico immediately interrupted, his right arm moving on its own accord to take the son of Apollo's fidgety hands into his.

"Nico, you know it's true, I—"

"Yes, you shouldn't be in the battlefield," Nico conceded, ignoring the hitch in Will's breath at his words. "You shouldn't be there because you are worth so much more outside of it. And you cannot save anyone's life if you get yourself eaten by a hellhound."

"I know," Will swallowed hard. "It's just that… sometimes I wish I could actually fight instead of being a burden to my teammates."

"First of all, you're not a burden," Nico said firmly. "And second, this is all bullshit. Anyone can learn how to wield a sword and land a few blows. Anyone, Will. But you cannot teach commitment to a person, you cannot teach selflessness or generosity. Only a few fools would have charged a hellhound while weaponless, yes. And even fewer would have done it because they knew that was the right thing to do."

"We were sent to a _rescue_ mission, Nico, that was the whole point!" Will uttered softly. Slowly, ever-so slowly, he raised his eyes to meet the son of Hades' gaze.

"Yeah, it was. It's still not less worth noticing," Nico insisted. "I may have been playing hero, Will, but you weren't. You were _being_ a hero," he smiled gently. "An idiotic, completely clueless one, but a brave, courageous hero nonetheless."

"Do you… do you really believe that?" Will managed in an undertone.

"When have I ever lied to you, sunshine?" Nico whispered, his eyes locked to Will's and close, oh-so close that he could feel the warmth Will's body radiated.

Nico was so lost in the coy smile Will offered him as an answer that he didn't even realize he had started leaning closer to the son of Apollo. Before he could fully comprehend what was going on his lips were on Will's, a butterfly-like caress in case Will decided that he didn't want to continue. Instead, Will tilted his head slightly, turning to give Nico better access before he gently returned the kiss.

For a wonderful, blissful amount of thirty seconds, it was perfect. Nico's right hand moved to caress Will's cheek, and the son of Apollo leaned into him, allowing his twitchy hands to come to rest on Nico's thighs. Then the magic spell broke and Nico hurriedly pulled back. He tried to ignore the way Will trailed after him, his eyes still closed in naïve felicity.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck," Nico managed hoarsely.

"_Fuck_? That's the one word you know how to say today?" Will inquired, breathing heavily. His cheeks were tainted a soft pink in a betraying blush, and he was nearly glowing. Not just beaming in the metaphorical sense of the word, no. He was positively, literally _glowing_.

"Oh, Will, I'm so sorry…" the son of Hades whispered. "This isn't… I shouldn't have… Oh, gods, I am so sorry…"

"_Sorry_? Nico, what…? Oh… I see…" Will managed, having had apparently connected the dots. His face fell and the brightness in his demeanor evaporated. "Oh… I see. This is about Percy, isn't it?"

"What does Percy have to do with any of this?" Nico gestured around wildly.

"Well, you tell me. What about Percy?" the son of Apollo insisted.

"He's madly in love with Annabeth and he's not here, so I don't see your point, sunshine!"

"Yes, that's the problem, isn't it, Nico? He's madly in love with Annabeth and you're in love with him and—"

"What are you even talking about?" Nico cut him off.

"You are in love with Percy," Will insisted, a firm, yet faltering accusation.

"Yes," Nico admitted, suddenly deciding that he was tired of beating around the bush. In a rush, he added. "I was in love with Percy _over two years ago_."

"Nico, what—"

"_Two years, Will_! Two years he's only been my friend, so, honestly, I don't see why you're bringing him up now!"

"Then why… why did you pull back?" Will inquired, scowling as he tried to make sense of the son of Hades' actions.

Nico groaned. "I pulled back because of you and Monique!" he nearly bellowed.

"Because of me and…? Nico, she broke up with me a little after the war."

"I _know_," Nico sighed, making a long emphasis on his second word. "But you are still trying to win her back!"

"What's that even supposed to mean?" Will accused.

"It means that she's always in the infirmary, volunteering to help—"

"She was a volunteer here long before we even started dating!" Will argued, although Nico continued speaking through the interruption.

"And you're always by her side, talking and smiling and you make such a lovely couple it's nauseating, some Young Adult novel couple you are and—"

"You're an idiot," Will said in an undertone, half annoyed and half surprised.

"Oh, _I'm_ an idiot now?" Nico counterattacked. "Well, excuse me for falling in love with you while you are clearly enamored by Monique and the way she plays the flute and her bouncy curls. It's not like I chose who to fall in love with, you know? Next time I talk to Cupid, that bloody bastard, I will tell him—"

"I'm not in love with her!" Will finally hollered, successfully stopping Nico's rant.

"You… what?"

"You bloody idiot, I am in love with _you_!" Wil insisted impatiently.

"But… but she spends all of her free time in here!" Nico muttered out.

"As do you!" Will accused before deciding that one of them should better have an ounce of prudence and taking in a deep breath. "She comes here because she likes volunteering. She also comes because she's trying to get Austin to notice her. He's absolutely clueless and she's forbidden me to even give him a hint."

"So… does that… Does that mean that Monique and you…?" Nico managed, hating himself for how hopeful he sounded.

"No chance of us getting back together, no," Will replied softly, taking Nico's uninjured hand into his. "We are good friends, but when we were in a relationship, we were both kind of… looking for someone else."

"Oh gods…" Nico whispered in disbelief. He couldn't help it—he started laughing. At first it was only soft giggles that he could try to swallow down, but soon enough his tittering fit evolved into an unashamed laughter. Still trying to regain his composure, he leaned into Will's shoulder. "We are both idiots."

"Both?" the son of Apollo had the audacity to question. As all answer, Nico raised a questioning eyebrow, his head still supported on Will, although he tilted his face so the other demigod could appreciate his unamused gesture. "Alright then, alright." And just like that, Will was laughing too, unrestricted and ridiculous and perfect. Only when the laughter in their chests had finally died down did Nico sit uptight once again, his dark eyes nervously scanning Will's features.

"Then, does this mean… Does it mean that you and I can…?" he made a silly movement with his right hand, gesturing to him and to Will and to the whole infirmary. "Does it mean that we _can_?"

"Oh gods, _yes_. Yes, we _can_," Will let out a shaky breath, positively beaming again as he smiled back at Nico.

"Good. Oh, good, because I've been waiting for so long that I don't know if—"

And just like that Will's lips were on his again, soft and gentle and impatient. His hands came up to cup Nico's face, a soothing caress. They would worry about the semantics later, they would figure out what they were and where they were standing in the morning. Right then, it didn't matter. All that mattered were Nico's fingers slowly combing through Will's hair and the way Nico leaned into his touch and the way Will's heart was threatening to jump out of his chest.

―*―*―

_Wherever you are standing,  
I will be by your side.  
Through the good, through the bad,  
I'll never be hard to find._

―*―*―

* * *

**So, here we are. I really hope you enjoyed it. It is always lovely to write with these two dorks and I had really missed doing so. Also, it is very refreshing to have a Nico who is openly gay and sure of himself. And, on the other hand, I have the headcanon that Will is bisexual and that is something that I rarely get to see reflected in fanfiction. **

**Well, I think that would be all for now. Please, please, pelease, if you liked this be sure to let me know in the comments. Also, check the song out, it's a beautiful thing and drop by FrostedDragonHeart and Rosycat's accounts to thank them because they are honestly life-savers. **

**Thank you all and read you soon!**


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